


Don't Write Yourself Off Yet

by PorcupineGirl



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Adolescent Sexuality, Canon Compliant, Coming of Age, Demisexual Character, Demisexuality, Kid Fic, M/M, No Underage Sex, and kids bragging about sex they probably did not have, but an exploration of, demi bitty, this fic starts when bitty is 12 and involves his thoughts about his sexuality as a young teen, with very brief non-graphic mentions of masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 06:38:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8194030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PorcupineGirl/pseuds/PorcupineGirl
Summary: Eric is twelve when he asks his mama what a crush feels like.He's thirteen when he starts to think maybe it's different for him.He's twenty before he decides that that's okay.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Up until this batch of updates, my headcanon for Bitty (based mostly on stuff on the Twitter) was that he's a flirtatious drunk, and probably kissed/made out with guys at parties even if he rarely-to-never let things go below the waist. The implication that his kiss with Jack was his first kiss kind of threw me for a loop. Now, obviously there's nothing wrong with your first kiss being at age 20, and you don't have to be on the asexual spectrum for that to be true. But for me, personally, when I saw someone suggest that maybe he's demi, it fit with my general idea of him better than him just being really shy and not letting even the rugby guy kiss him.
> 
> I am not demisexual, or anywhere on the ace spectrum. I was sex-repulsed for a couple of years (probably due to a medical issue, but the timing was weird so I'm not sure), which is the main reason I made Bitty more on that end of things than something more sex-neutral, because I know how that feels. I hope I've done justice to the demisexual experience. There is a lot of Bitty thinking he's broken or otherwise abnormal before he accepts himself; obviously, these are his thoughts, not my opinions.
> 
> In case you skipped the tags: This fic starts when Bitty is 12, and involves a lot of his adolescent thoughts about his own sexuality, including a few brief mentions of masturbation (none happens on-screen). There are also some 13-year-olds bragging about sex they probably have not actually had. So there is NOT any underage sex, but there is a lot about underage sexuality.
> 
> Beta'd by [DarkenedNights](http://darkenednights.tumblr.com).
> 
> Title from _The Middle_ by Jimmy Eat World.

Eric is twelve when he asks his mama what a crush feels like.

"Well," she says, after giving him a knowing smile, "when you've got a crush on a girl, you think she's just about the prettiest thing you've ever seen. You'll wanna stare at her all the time—but try not to, Dicky, 'cause some girls think that comes off a little scary. You'll wanna hold hands with her, and kiss her, and everything she says will sound like the most interesting thing you've ever heard, and her laugh'll be the best sound in the world."

Eric frowns down at the dough he's kneading, processing all that.

"Why, is there some lucky girl you're feeling like that about?" The question annoys Eric more than he thinks it should, and Mama's deceptively casual tone makes it worse. She clearly thinks the answer is _yes_.

" _No,_ " he says, a little more forcefully than he meant to. "If I felt that way, why would I have to ask?"

"Oh, I don't know," she replies, her breezy tone revealing her two years' experience navigating the rough emotional waters of parenting a preteen, "maybe you just wanted to double-check. Not everyone understands their own feelings all the time, y'know. In fact, I think most everyone gets confused about how they feel now and then."

Eric punches the dough down roughly. It's so easy for his mama to say oh, everyone gets confused, oh Dicky it's so _normal_. He knows not everyone gets confused the way he's confused. He knows his _mama's_ never been confused the way he's confused. He knows it's not normal.

A little part of him wants to ask if it would feel different, having a crush on a boy instead of a girl, wants so _desperately_ for the answer to be yes. For her to say _oh, it'd be totally different, if you feel like that for a boy that's not a crush, it'll go away._ But he's not stupid—the answer wouldn't matter as much as the fact that he'd even thought to ask the question. Even wondered.

 

He goes with his mama's definition for a while, and by the end of the seventh grade he's pretty sure a crush is a crush no matter who it's on. Because Jacob Robertson is just about the cutest boy he's ever seen, and oh how he wants to stare (he doesn't need his mama to tell him how bad an idea that would be). Jacob is funny and smart, and seems to think Eric's funny when they talk in math class, and yes, holding his hand and kissing him sound like very good ideas indeed.

 

By eighth grade, though, he's not so sure. Not about Jacob—if anything the boy got taller and cuter when Eric runs into him over the summer, and he's maybe the only thing Eric misses when they move to Madison—but about what mama said. About what a _real_ crush feels like. Because the other boys sure talk like there's more to it in the locker room after gym class.

"Shut up, Tim, Samantha's not ugly."

"Oooooohhh, you liiiiiike her. You wanna see her tits."

"Dude, _I_ wanna see Samantha's tits, and I think she's a bitch."

"Yeah, but I bet Will wants her to give him a blowjob."

"Shut up, Tim, you're just jealous no one's ever given you a blowjob."

"Oh right, like you've ever gotten one."

"Charlotte Peters, after the football game last week."

"Yeah, right."

"Dude, I knew she was a slut!"

Some things must be different when your crushes are on guys. Obviously he never wanted to see Jacob's boobs, that's just silly, but he didn't want a blowjob from him, either. There's no one in Madison he likes as much as he liked Jacob, but there are cute guys he might have little crushes on and he doesn't want any of them to suck on his dick. Ew.

He's a thirteen-year-old boy; he has wet dreams and he plays with himself sometimes. But the dreams are vague and he doesn't think about other boys when he touches himself. He tries it once, imagines it's Jacob's hand touching his dick instead of his own. He just feels kind of embarrassed and gives up.

It must be different if you like boys.

 

By the time he's fifteen, he knows that's not true. He's read enough on the internet about being gay to know that most gay guys want other guys to touch and suck their dicks, even want to do it to other guys. Even put their dicks in each other's butts, which just seems... weird. Gross.

He can't even manage to be normal among the abnormal people. He'd think his dick was broken, but it seems to work just fine—but only when it wants to, not when he thinks about certain people.

Then a boy named Matt joins his hockey team his junior year. Matt is cute and funny and smart, he's good at skating, and he likes hanging out with Eric. Eric hangs out with Matt more than anyone he's known since he was a little kid. Matt even has Eric teach him how to make a pie as a surprise for his mother's birthday.

He also has a very pretty girlfriend named Christina. Nobody's perfect.

Eric's crush on Matt hits fast and hard, and for a while it's just like all the others. They start hanging out more, and Eric's main concern is making sure not to stare at his friend. Months go by, and he gets used to it. He sneaks looks when Matt's not looking, and wishes he could put his head on Matt's shoulder when they're watching a movie, but mostly he can ignore it.

Then, when they're making the pie, Matt gets a smear of apple filling on his cheek, and Eric has the sudden urge to lick it off. To not just kiss Matt, but fuse their mouths together like he's seen so many couples do, to feel Matt's lips down the side of his throat. He excuses himself to the bathroom, hoping Matt didn't notice his blush.

He's getting hard by the time he gets there, and he splashes cold water on his face. Just for good measure, he pulls his pants down and splashes cold water on his traitorous dick, too, trying to think about whatever unsexy things he can, which is easy because Matt is basically the first thing he's ever _found_ sexy.

He manages to get ahold of himself, and the rest of the afternoon passes without incident. That night he lets himself think about Matt when he's touching himself, and discovers that he'd like to do a lot more than feel Matt's lips against his throat. Things that seemed like they'd just be awkward and unnecessary with other people sound like not such a bad idea if it were Matt doing them.

Just to be on the safe side, the next time Matt comes over Eric suggests he invite Christina. Good thing he likes her (other than the dating Matt part), and she seems pleased to be included. They hang out, the three of them, more often, and Eric is better at not staring when Christina's right there.

To be honest, as embarrassing as he finds it to be attracted—like really, seriously, wanting his body attracted—to his best friend, Eric's relieved. Apparently his dick was never broken, just a late bloomer.

He doesn't particularly care that Matt is still the only one he thinks of that way, the only one he can even imagine thinking of that way. He's fine with one unattainable crush at a time, thank you.

Eric is sure that when he gets to college and finds boys who will like him back (he's crossing his fingers for that hockey scholarship from "one in four" Samwell so he isn't stuck at "well maybe nobody'll beat me up for it" UGA), his dick will rise to the occasion.

Ha ha, rise.

... He can make dick jokes like any other teenage boy, you know.

He's just too polite to let them leave his own head, is all.

 

When he gets to Samwell, though, he starts to think Matt was a fluke.

He's surrounded by attractive guys on his hockey team, but he doesn't even really have a not-sexy crush on any of them. The team feels too much like a family, like these guys have adopted him as a little brother, to see any of them like that.

Well, Jack doesn't particularly feel like a brother to him, but Eric definitely doesn't have a crush on him, either. Even if he is well aware that the moody team captain is nice to look at.

There are cute guys in his classes, but no one stands out. By the time he comes out to the team, he's hoping Ransom and Holster have good taste.

His Winter Screw date is cute enough.... Until he barfs.

Bitty (he's starting to think of himself by his nickname—he likes how it sets his Samwell identity apart as a separate thing from his Georgia identity) starts trying to let loose more at parties. He loves dancing, and there seems to be no lack of cute boys who want to dance with him. And he does enjoy dancing with attractive guys… but he doesn't particularly like it when they try to touch him too much, to make the dancing into anything more. His skin crawls every time a guy tries to grind against him, and drinking more only makes it worse. Once a guy leans in and makes a suggestion about what they could do in the bathroom and Eric suddenly remembers he has a test in the morning he needs to go home and study for. On a Friday night.

He finds a boy to stare at in one of his lectures, but it never really progresses to a full-on crush because he never manages to talk to the guy. And apparently just wanting to stare at someone isn't enough for the World's Pickiest Penis.

By the end of his freshman year, he's starting to think that Matt Cooper was The Only Guy Eric Bittle Will Ever Want to Have Sex With, and he was straight. Of course.

It doesn't really matter, though. He doesn't need to date when he has so many more _friends_ than he ever imagined he could have. Even Jack has been nice to him for the past couple of months, and as it turns out, is pretty funny when he doesn't hate you. Which, Eric thinks to himself as he moves his stuff into the Haus, might be a little dangerous. Because Jack is still very nice to look at. And he's pretty sure that a Jacob- or Matt-level crush on your team captain, who lives right across the hall from you, would be far more awkward than it's worth. He'll just have to keep Jack strictly in the "friends who happen to be attractive" box with the rest of the hockey team.

 

He doesn't count on taking a class with Jack. He doesn't count on getting coffee with Jack before class or frozen yogurt with him after practice, or on another round of checking practice, or on Jack hanging out in his room to chirp him when he's bored.

He was not expecting Jack to become his best friend.

And yeah, he's been here before. It's like with Matt, only even _more_. Sometimes… sometimes Bitty thinks he's legitimately falling in love with a man he can never have. But that would be ridiculous.

He wants to touch Jack. When he likes a guy, Bitty always thinks about holding hands, touching his hair, kissing him gently. With Jack, he wants even more than that. He wants to tangle himself up with Jack in bed and just talk for hours. He wants to hold him, and be held, and climb into his lap and kiss him, and…

It reaches a turning point, of course, while they're baking for their final project.

Eric is never, ever baking with a cute boy again. _Ever_.

Because Jack has flour dusted all over him, and he looks just so _happy_ and content, like he wants nothing more than to be there, talking about his future in the kitchen with Bitty.

And god, Bitty wants him. Wants to press him up against the counter and strip that flour-covered shirt right off of him.

Luckily, he's not sixteen anymore, so this does not necessitate an emergency trip to the bathroom. He thinks Jack might have caught him blushing, but he doesn't think Jack necessarily knows _why_.

God, he wishes Jack would just stop looking at him like that, though. Sometimes Jack looks at him and his eyes are all soft and it almost makes Bitty start to hope, start to wonder… But that way lies madness.

 

His Winter Screw date this year goes better. Eric actually likes the guy, Daniel, pretty well. They dance, and Daniel is a gentleman who doesn't try to get all over Eric and creep him out. It's a lot of fun, so when Daniel asks him out for coffee the next day, Eric says yes.

Daniel isn't Jack Zimmermann, but that's probably a good thing.

Well, maybe.

Because it also means that Bitty doesn't feel the same way about Daniel that he does about Jack—well, obviously, he just _met_ the guy, but… But that never stops other people, especially in the sex department, and Bitty has no idea where Daniel stands on that. Yeah, he didn't try to grind against Bitty and practically hump him on the dance floor, but what _will_ he want? How many dates before he wants to get his hands down Bitty's pants and Bitty comes off like some schoolgirl protecting her purity?

Maybe he could think about Jack.

Would that be creepy?

It wouldn't be very fair to Daniel. But what else is he supposed to do? He'd probably enjoy kissing the guy, maybe even some low-level making out, but it's not gonna magically get him hard. Would Daniel get pissed about that? Would he think Bitty isn't interested in him at all? Because he _is_ interested, just maybe not like that yet, but maybe he could be, if they keep dating? Maybe he'd even get over Jack. But that's only if Daniel is willing to hold off… Maybe for quite a while. How long before Bitty is comfortable enough with him to want something like that from him? He can't even predict. He couldn't give Daniel a timeline if he asked.

In the end, even though he'd actually quite like to kiss Daniel, when it's about to actually happen Bitty panics and ducks away and stutters nervously to distract him. A kiss would be great, but he's pretty sure Daniel would want more and he just can't quite face that yet.

 

Daniel keeps texting him for a few days, even asks him on another date. Which is sweet, and Bitty does like him, and maybe he'd be okay with Bitty being a little weird about sex…

But then Jack comes into his room uninvited and throws himself onto Bitty's bed like he owns it, and chirps the living shit out of him, just lying there looking smug while Bitty is _trying_ to get his _work done_. Throwing a pen at him has no effect.

Jack slides a hand under Bitty's pillow, then pauses, and Bitty remembers what's hidden there. He buries his face in his textbook, blushing furiously, as Jack pulls a floppy brown object out. Lord, Jack is already in a mood. He is never going to live this down.

"Oh, cute. What's his name?"

"Uh." Eric is so caught off guard by Jack's casual tone, he answers automatically. "Señor Bun. Er, Bunny. Uh, either one."

"He looks old. When did you get him? Why is he Spanish?"

Jack is just lying there, inspecting the rabbit's ears, not chirping him in the least.

"Uh, I was five." Bitty's still not quite sure that he's not about to be made fun of, but Jack seems sincere. "My parents went on a vacation to Mexico, and I stayed with my Moomaw for the week. And when they called and asked what kind of souvenir I wanted, for some reason no one has yet figured out I told them I wanted a rabbit. A real one. But they compromised."

Jack smiles at Señor Bun fondly, then does just about the last thing Bitty expected him to do—he sticks the rabbit on the windowsill.

"Poor thing can't breathe under there," Jack says, almost to himself. Then he turns to Bitty. "Maybe you should have the rabbit take your calculus final. He's probably spent more time actually studying for it than you have."

"Jack Zimmermann, how dare you—" Before he can think about it too hard, Bitty is out of his office chair and on his knees on the bed by Jack, grabbing his arms. "—come into _my room_ while I am trying to _study_ —"

"Right, that's why you have YouTube open—"

Bitty manages to haul Jack to his feet and starts pushing him toward the door.

"—lay on _my_ bed, chirping me so I can't concentrate on a _single thing_ —"

He gives Jack one final shove across the hallway, where Jack breaks down laughing in his doorway. Bitty does his best to glare, but soon he's laughing, too.

"Fine, fine. You know, I have a lecture to get to, you're gonna make me late, Bittle."

"Oh, _I'm_ gonna make _you_ —see if you get any of the cobbler I'm making tonight, mister."

Bitty actually sticks out his tongue, making Jack dissolve into laughter again, before turning back into his room and shutting the door behind him.

His eyes immediately fall on Señor Bun, slouched on the windowsill, looking out over the room.

He bites his lip. It's no use. He's so far gone on Jack Zimmermann. It's just not fair to anyone else; they can't compete. He stops texting Daniel back.

 

The "Epikegster," as Rans and Holster are calling it, is that weekend. Jack surprises everyone by coming downstairs instead of locking himself up with a documentary.

Jack surprises Bitty by sticking by him all evening. Bitty tells himself that it's because Jack's an awkward duck and needs someone to cling to to survive a party like this. But…

He knows full well Jack's only had one beer and then water the rest of the night, and he's not even _particularly_ drunk yet himself, so he can't blame it on the alcohol. He tries to, anyhow.

Because Jack keeps standing just a little too close. Letting their arms brush, or even press together like he relishes the contact. That soft look he sometimes gets in his eyes is there all night as he's talking to Bitty. He's leaning in to talk right into Bitty's ear even when it's not _really_ quite loud enough for it to be necessary, and god he _has_ to know what he's doing, right? Has to know how his lips just barely, barely brushing the sensitive skin there affects Bitty.

A couple hours in, Bitty's actually getting nervous, because… oh, lord. Jack has been honest-to-god flirting with him all night, and looking at his mouth, and is this actually going where Bitty thinks it's going?

Then Kent Parson shows up.

And Bitty's not entirely 100% sure of what he heard in Jack's room, but… he's pretty sure.

He wishes Jack would let him in. He can't imagine how it must feel, someone you were once so close to (… _very_ close?) saying such awful things like that. Bitty's not even thinking about kissing him anymore, he just wants to help his friend. But Jack's door is locked, even if Bitty can hear him sniffling through it.

So he does the only thing he knows how to do in these situations, and bakes for him.

 

Knowing that Jack might actually not be entirely straight and could, potentially, hypothetically, _possibly_ return Bitty's feelings in some way, shape, or form makes spring semester both better and worse.

It's better because he doesn't feel as awkward about having a crush as he always has in the past. If he accidentally gets caught staring at Jack, or says something unintentionally flirtatious, sure he's a little embarrassed and blushes, but he's also watching Jack's reaction like a hawk.

It's worse, of course, because it's not like Jack is actually overtly making any sort of move, which is both disheartening and confusing. Sometimes Bitty is absolutely sure that Jack must know that something he's said or done seems flirtatious… but it always stays in that nebulous mixed-messages place that's so damn frustrating.

Not that Bitty can blame him. Jack's inches away from signing (probably with the Falconers, to Bitty's immense relief), and the last thing he needs is some kind of gay scandal getting in his way. Parse was probably enough of a reminder of that—of the rumors, the theories, the _fanfiction._ Just in time to save Jack from possibly hooking up with Bitty that night and ruining everything. Sigh.

Obviously, even if Jack is attracted to Bitty in some way, it would never be worth the risk to his career.

But Bitty sort of wishes he'd stop doing things like taking so many pictures of him (Jack showed him his class project and he spent the rest of the evening trying to figure out if Jack had been trying to tell him something or if he'd actually, honestly not realized that Bitty was in nearly every photo) and buying him ovens and lending him his jacket on cold rooftops. Of course, he doesn't really want Jack to stop doing any of those things at all, but it might be better than the sharp stabs of false hope they keep giving him.

He keeps telling himself that once Jack's gone, he'll get over it. Just like he did with Jacob, and with Matt. It barely took him a month after moving to Madison to stop thinking about Jacob, and after Matt dropped out of the hockey team halfway through senior year, Bitty's crush had faded by graduation. Jack will graduate, he'll move to Providence, Bitty will text him regularly but probably only see him in person once every couple of months, if that. And he'll move on. Find someone else to moon over, maybe even someone who wants him exactly as much as he wants them.

 

He turns around and Jack is there, panting. In the space of three kisses his whole world is turned upside down and falls into place all at once.

 

Being with Jack is better than he'd ever even imagined it could be. Yes, they have to keep it a secret, and that'll be hard once school starts. And it's hard being so far away from him all summer. But they talk _so much_. They were already such good friends; now there's this new dimension to their friendship. He thinks maybe it's been there all along, waiting, and now that it's out in the open they can relax and open up the way they always wanted to.

Jack comes to Madison, and the fact that they can't touch when his parents are in the room is more than made up for by the amount of touching they do while they're alone.

For the first time, Bitty feels like a normal person. When he was younger, he thought there was something wrong with him. He thought he was broken. Now he's known what it's like to want to have sex with someone, and for people to want to have sex with him (thank you, random creepy boys at parties), and finally, _finally_ the two have lined up. Having an orgasm in Jack's hand (or, lord have mercy, his mouth) is one of the best experiences of his life—but definitely still behind watching Jack fall apart for him. He remembers how the thought of putting his hand on another guy's dick just made him feel vaguely uncomfortable when he was younger—still does, if the guy is anyone but Jack—and marvels at how right it feels, to give Jack that much pleasure.

He tells Jack about his lack of dating experience, and Jack is surprised.

"I don't know, I guess you just seem flirtatious to me, so I assumed that guys must respond to that. You dance with guys at parties and stuff. I've seen you."

Bitty smirks down at Jack, whom he's lying on top of on the bed. "Do you mean you've _watched_ me dance at parties, Mr. Zimmermann?"

Jack grins. "Yes. That is exactly what I mean."

"Well, at least you admit you're a lech," Bitty says without heat, and kisses Jack's nose. "And sweetheart, did you ever stop to think that maybe I seem flirtatious to you because you're the only one I flirt with?"

Jack laughs. "Come on, that can't be true."

"It is, I swear! I'm very picky. I flirted with guys at parties when I first got to Samwell, but I learned pretty quick that as soon as you flirt with the guy you're dancing with, he assumes you want to do more than dance, and I _don't_ mean go out on a nice date the next day and see where things go. And I had no interest in hooking up with random guys at parties."

"Yeah, I don't blame you there." Jack wrinkles his nose. "I've never been much into that, either."

When Jack tells him about the people he's dated, it's not as extensive as Bitty had assumed. Parse, then the girls he took to Winter Screw each year, and that was pretty much it. And the only one of those girls he went on more than a couple of dates with was Camilla. Jack is definitely more sexually experienced than Bitty, but he's really only done more than make out with two people. Which really shouldn't surprise Bitty that much—he lived across the hall from the guy for a year, if he were hooking up with lots of people Bitty would have noticed. But Jack _is_ a few years older, and Bitty would be lying if he said he hadn't been at least a tiny bit nervous about it.

 

The next time he visits Providence, Jack asks Bitty to fuck him. He seems surprisingly nervous about bringing it up, babbling about how they don't have to do anything Bitty doesn't want to do until Bitty tackles him to the bed and shows him exactly how enthusiastic he is about the suggestion.

Bitty's assumption that nothing on earth could possibly feel better than Jack's mouth wrapped around his cock is quickly disproven.

Afterwards, they curl up together, naked, Bitty's head on Jack's chest. For a few minutes they just lie there quietly, both recovering.

"Oh my goodness," Bitty finally says. "When I first found out that gay men have anal sex I thought that sounded like just about the weirdest, worst idea possible. Why on earth would anyone want to put their penis in someone's ass, or even worse, let someone do it to them?"

Jack laughs. "I'm guessing this was before you found out you had a prostate?"

"Well, yes, it did make more sense once I figured that part out."

"Honestly, it only weirded me out a little at first," Jack says, shrugging one shoulder. "I was like fourteen or something when I realized I liked guys and looked up gay porn. Pretty much any warm, wet hole sounded like a great idea at the time. I mean, not in practice so much, I didn't really want to hook up with random people even as a kid, but in theory. It was fun enough to imagine."

Bitty shudders a little. "Honestly, I wasn't even much for imagining, but that wasn't just anal stuff."

"Really?" Bitty can feel Jack shift to look down at him. "You were a teenage boy who didn't enjoy thinking about sex?"

Bitty feels his face heat. He hadn't really meant to say that, he was just way too relaxed from the great-sex endorphins and it slipped out.

"I, uh… Not really?" He should probably leave it there, but for some reason he feels a deep-seated need to tell Jack about this. To make Jack understand just how special this is between them for him. Even if it's weird. "I dunno, I think there was something wrong with me. Or something. I mean, I like, jerked off and all, maybe not as much as most guys. But I didn't really like the thought of anyone else touching me, or of touching anyone else. Still don't, really, not mostly."

Jack freezes beneath him. "Bits, you know—we never have to do anything—if you didn't want—"

"Oh, no no no!" Bitty's head shoots up as he rushes to reassure Jack. "No, baby, I said 'mostly'. Mostly meaning, well. Anyone but you, pretty much. Trust me, I like thinking about you. A lot."

Jack still looks unsure, though. "You're sure?"

"Oh, honey, I am so sure. Believe me. I've wanted you for a while now."

"Just me, though?" Jack raises an eyebrow. "Really? Ever?"

Bitty rolls his eyes. "Well, not _ever_. There was a guy in high school I had a crush on, I was attracted like that to him. I liked thinking about doing stuff with him. He had a girlfriend, though."

"Huh," Jack says, and pulls Bitty back down onto him. Bitty is happy to go. "So when you say you don't want to hook up with random people, it's not just that you don't want casual sex. You really aren't attracted to any of them."

"Well, I mean, depends on what you mean by attracted, I guess. There are plenty of guys I think are attractive, that I like to look at. And some of those I'd even like to maybe kiss or run my hand through their hair or something. But touching my dick? It's like… It's not just that I need to feel comfortable with someone to _actually_ do that. I think… I think I need to know a guy well enough to feel comfortable with him before I can even _think_ about it without it feeling weird. I definitely don't ever look at someone, and just because I think he's cute think _wow, I wanna get on that._ It just, like… wouldn't even occur to me to think that about a stranger."

He's never really even tried to explain it to himself so explicitly, but now that he's said it, it sounds right. It doesn't even sound that strange, or broken. Lots of people would never have sex with someone they barely know, so why would it be strange that he doesn't want to _think_ about sex with someone he barely knows?

Jack, apparently, agrees. "That makes sense. I'm just glad I'm on the list."

"Honey, you pretty much _are_ the list," Bitty says with a chuckle. He slides a hand down across Jack's incredible abs, and reflects on what good taste he has. If his dick's gotta be picky, it might as well be _picky_.

Jack hums happily, nuzzling into Bitty's hair.

"You know, though," Jack says into his hair after a moment, "I'm serious. If there's ever anything you don't want to do, please let me know. I won't enjoy it if you're not enjoying it. Like, if you don't ever want to bottom, that's fine, or anything else—"

"Are you kidding me?" Bitty sits up, even though his bones still feel a little gelatinized, and straddles Jack's waist. "Like I'm gonna let you have all the fun."

"I think you had plenty of fun," Jack responds, smiling up at him. Bitty braces himself with a hand on either side of Jack's head, then slowly lowers himself to kiss him while Jack's arms wind around his waist.

"There is very little," he murmurs between kisses, "that I don't want try with you, Mr. Zimmermann. I can't guarantee I'll like everything, but I'll try almost anything once."

In response, Jack pulls him down even closer and deepens their kisses. They make out for a bit as if they didn't both just come fifteen minutes ago. He yelps when Jack rolls them over, then wraps his legs tight around Jack's waist as Jack nuzzles into the hollow under his jaw.

"I love you," Jack says into his skin, almost a whisper. It's far from the first time, but everything is still so new that it still makes Bitty's heart race to hear it.

He pushes Jack up until he can look him in the eye. "I love you, too, sweetheart." Jack smiles, and Bitty will never, ever get tired of seeing that look in his eyes.

 

Annabelle is twelve when she asks her daddy what a crush feels like.

"Well," he says, leaning over the table a little as they sit across from each other, eating the pie they just pulled out of the oven with some ice cream, "I reckon it can be a little different for everyone. Even your own crushes on different people can feel a little different from each other. But usually, you'll think that person is just about the cutest thing you ever saw, and you'll wanna stare at 'em all the time. Probably best not to, of course. You might wanna hold hands with 'em, or kiss 'em, or cuddle with 'em. Everything they say will sound like just the most interesting thing you've ever heard, and their laugh will be the best sound in the world."

She smiles to herself as she swirls her spoon around, dragging the ice cream through the cherries.

"Why?" he asks, once he's gotten his own smile under control. "There someone you been thinkin' about?"

"I dunno," she says, drawing her words out in a way that makes Bitty think she definitely knows.

Before she can say any more than that, another man comes into the kitchen. He's sweaty, and his eyes light up when he sees their plates.

"Worked up an appetite, darlin'?" Bitty points to the pie on the center island. "There's chocolate or vanilla ice cream in the freezer."

"Definitely," Jack says, ruffling Annabelle's hair as he walks by her. "You're almost a teenager, I'm gonna teach _you_ to mow the lawn so you can do it next time."

Annabelle completely ignores what he says.

"Papa, what do _you_ think a crush feels like?"

Jack stops in the middle of cutting himself a slice of pie. Bitty has to cover his mouth to hide his smile at the gobsmacked look on his husband's face.

"Annabelle Suzanne Bittle, you are _way_ too young to have a crush on anyone."

"I'm almost a teenager! If I can mow the lawn, I can have a crush on a boy!"

"A boy, is it?" Bitty says gleefully, and Annabelle's eyes widen as she realizes she's given too much away.

Jack frowns as he digs the chocolate ice cream out of the freezer. "You know you're not allowed to go on dates until you're fifteen, right?"

" _Papa!"_

 _"_ Stop torturing your daughter and just answer the question, honey." Bitty rolls his eyes as he takes another bite.

"What was the question?"

"Never mind," Annabelle mutters into her pie, her face turning pink.

"She asked what you think a crush feels like," Bitty says as Jack sits down at the table with them.

"But if I tell her, she might get one," Jack says, overly serious.

"Well, I already gave her my answer, so that ship's sailed." Bitty shrugs innocently, and Jack heaves a sigh.

"Okay, okay. Hm. You know, I understand why you have to ask. It can be hard, especially if you're already friends with someone, figuring out where the line is. I guess one thing is if you find yourself making all sorts of excuses to spend more time with them. Going to a cafe you know they like, or a party you wouldn't normally go to, things like that. Just because you want to listen to them talk. And you'll say just about _anything_ to hear them laugh. Or… oh! If you're with them, but they're not paying attention to you, you might want to tease them just to get them to pay attention to you."

"Oh my lord," Bitty murmurs, trying not to choke on his ice cream when he stifles a laugh.

"Or you look at them one day and think, they couldn't possibly have always been that attractive, because certainly you would have noticed if they were. And you spend the rest of the day trying to figure out what changed, but maybe you're the one who changed."

"And then you wanna stare at them?" Annabelle asks. "That's what daddy said."

"Oh yeah, definitely," Jack says around a mouthful of pie. He swallows before he continues. "If you want to stare at someone a lot you definitely have a crush on them. Even if you try to tell yourself you don't, trust me, you do. You'd think that would be obvious, but these things can be more confusing than you'd expect."

"So confusing," Bitty agrees. He's sure the heart eyes he's giving his husband right now can be seen from space. He shakes himself a little and turns back to his daughter. "But like I said, sweetie, it's a bit different for everyone, so if it's not exactly how I said or exactly how your papa said, don't worry, okay? If you think you've got a crush on someone, you do. Even if your version isn't the same as your friends'."

Annabelle squints at him, clearly dubious. "So… anything I think is a crush, counts as a crush? But I also might try to tell myself something's not a crush even when it is? Is anything _not_ a crush?"

Jack attempts to clarify. "It's only a crush if you think it is, _or_ if you have to work to convince yourself it's not. If you just don't think it is without any convincing, you're good."

Annabelle huffs her very best twelve-year-old sigh and shows off the dramatic eyeroll she learned from her daddy.

"Whatever," she says as she goes to put her plate in the sink. "You're just _trying_ to confuse me. At least Daddy's answer made sense."

Jack slides across the bench seat to wrap an arm around Bitty's waist. "Okay, don't blame me when you can't figure out you've got a crush until you're about to leave them forever, and you have to run across campus in your graduation gown to kiss them."

"Honey, that's not a crush," Bitty says playfully, leaning into his husband's side.

"No, you're right." Jack grins down at him. "That's how you know it's love."


End file.
